Teddy's Homecoming
by newgirl3366
Summary: A short story about Ana and Christian bringing Teddy home from the hospital. As always I do not own Fifty Shades of Grey or the characters. All rights go to EL James.
1. Chapter 1

***There will be a few chapters in this short story. I wanted to get it up before the end of May, but have been so busy writing the next chapter of Part 4 that I haven't had time. I'm almost ready to post that next chapter, I've been doing a good bit of research for it, wanting to get it just right. In the meanwhile enjoy this little chapter and know there is more to come in this story...I am thinking to continue it to include Christian's first Father's Day with Ted, but we'll see how it goes.*******************

**_May 31, 2012_**

_Ana and Christian bring Teddy home from the hospital_

_*I have Teddy's birthday set as May 28, 2012*_

Asserting every ounce of strength I have I push and pull the infant seat in the back of the SUV. I test it by pulling and pushing left, right and then I attempt to pull it forward. It doesn't budge. This is exactly what I want. I wipe my brow where a few beads of sweat have formed due to my exertions. No matter how many times anyone else has tested or installed this seat it was never going to be acceptable until I did it myself. Dad showed me how to do it, the instructor for the childbirth class we took here at the hospital installed in three or maybe four times. What in the hell did she know anyway? The damn things still budged at least a quarter of an inch each time she did it. I only asked Dad to do it because I was so fucking fed up with her inequities that I could not stand her having another inept go at it. Satisfied I step out onto the curb in front of the revolving doors.

Taylor is waiting patiently. "All set to go, sir?"

"Yes," I answer gruffly and wipe my brow again. I am a fucking nervous wreck. Getting here I was a nervous wreck and I swear I am even more anxious than I was four days ago when we arrived. It is no longer just Ana and I anymore. It hasn't just been us for nine months now, but now it is even more real. The sleeping baby I held in my arms just minutes before meeting Taylor here in front of the hospital is depending on me. I swallow back the nerves creeping up from my gut. He is going to depend on me for the rest of my life.

I turn on me heel to go back through the revolving doors where I will fetch Ana and Ted. "Mr. Grey," Taylor calls from behind me. I make a half revolve. He is holding the infant seat in his hands. "Won't you need this, sir? The base is secure in the backseat, but you need this to secure the baby in."

I swear he is hiding a smirk. Bastard. He's already done this once before with Sophie, of course he knows I need the damn carrier. I want to suspect he is mocking me, but I know better. I drop the attitude I want to bestow on him and give him a tight smile instead. "Yes, thank you." I take the seat by its handle and walk through the revolving doors.

**HER STOMACH STILL SWOLLEN **slightly from where our son grew inside of her, Ana is sitting on the edge of her hospital bed her arms full of a bundle swaddled in blankets. She is cooing to him softly with her angelic voice. They both watch each other, one completely enamored with the other. He knows she is his mother, I knew this the first time he laid eyes on her. I drink in the euphoric vision in front of me. Her chestnut hair is swept in a single braid down her back, she begged me to brush and braid it for her. She didn't have to beg. I love the way her hair feels when I work my fingers through it. Her clear blue eyes are highlighted by the strapless, cotton, cerulean dress she is wearing. The creamy white skin of her shoulders begs me to kiss her.

Feeling my gaze on her she looks up and smiles. "Everything ready?" How do I deserve this woman sitting before me? What did I ever do to deserve her?

I clear my throat and find my voice. "All set. Taylor is waiting downstairs. We should buckle him in." I place the seat on the bed beside her then move to take our son from her arms.

"No, let me. I want to help."

"Ana, I can do it."

"Christian," her determination shines through. "Help me stand, I want to help you."

I put my hand at her elbow to guide her. She grunts softly to herself as she stands. Stubborn woman, I wish she would allow me to do this. She is still sore. "Ana, I…"

"I'm up Christian, really, I'm okay."

Biting my tongue I nod. She has taken only as much pain medication as needed. Never asking for more and hardly ever refusing to take what they are offering. She wants to be awake and taking care of our son every moment she can.

With great care we fasten the straps around our infant son. His deep blue eyes watch us, his brow furrowed in contemplation. If he could speak I think he would ask us what we are doing. The way I can already see his temperament coming through is astonishing.

"Mrs. Grey," a voice sounds near the doorway and I turn. Ana is still fussing with the sage green blankets she is tucking around Ted. In front of the nurse is a wheelchair and near that rests all of the flowers and blue balloons, which have been decorating Ana's hospital room for the past few days. "Where would you like me to take the gifts?"

"There is a black Audi SUV waiting at the front doors. Please take them there; my driver Taylor will know what to do with them." I tell her, Ana kisses our son's nose. The nurse nods and wheels the table out of the room.

Ana straightens to stand upright and cups her hand to her stomach. "Mmmm…that tugged a little." She whispers and I don't know if she meant for me to hear her words, but I did.

"In the chair, Mrs. Grey." Taking her hand in mine I place the other at the small of her back and walk her to sit in the wheelchair.

"This is really unnecessary, Christian. Honestly, I feel like a deflated balloon on parade." She waves her hand dismissively in the air.

"It is hospital policy and it is my policy as well. In the chair you will ride and Mrs. Grey, you look beautiful." I kneel in front of her and kiss her lips tenderly. Her cheeks blush rosy pink and I cannot resist kissing each of them too.

I bring the carrier holding our son to her and she holds it in her lap, wrapping her arms around it securely. "He's perfect." She marvels at Theodore Raymond Grey, the baby boy born of our love for each other.

"You both are." I whisper. Holding the handles on the back of her wheelchair I wheel my wife and new son out of the hospital and into the bright Seattle morning.


	2. Chapter 2

*I am so thrilled that so many of you are liking this! I don't know how long I will continue with it and I may not have regular updates on it because I am still writing part 4, but thank you for reading!**

"Good morning, Mrs. Grey." Taylor opens the back door of the SUV upon seeing us.

"Good morning, Taylor." The pride and happiness in Ana's voice cannot be disguised. She is happy to be going home.

I know the past few days have been nothing short of a trial for her. In the back of my mind lingers a gnawing sense of guilt. I have not shared it with anyone nor have I given it a copious amount of time to fester. Still, the bedeviling voice of culpability blames me, imputing me with the reason for my wife's pain. I did this to her and there is nothing I can do to heal the aftermath in a quick manner. Seeing her go through childbirth, an emergency surgery and the beginning stages of the subsequent recovery to follow have left me feeling helpless. I loathe feeling helpless. If could take every ounce of this pain away from her I would even though she would never ask it of me. She would never do anything differently either because what she endured brought our son into this world. Even if she never tells me what she feels in so many words I know this to be true.

"Congratulations," Taylor's voice draws me out of my own mind and back to the present. He steps forward to have a look at Ted. "He is beautiful." He remarks softly and even reaches out to touch my son's small fist. Jason Taylor is a fine man and a good father to his daughter. I could not ask for a more devoted right hand man.

"Thank you, Taylor," Ana beams. "I think so too, but then I'm biased I suppose." She runs her index finger over the soft skin of our son's nose. He crinkles it in response.

A car pulls up to park behind ours and an elderly man is wheeled out of the revolving door by two younger men. "Come baby, let's go home." I urge Ana and take hold of the carrier holding Ted. Vigilant not to knock the carrier or jostle him I slowly and meticulously place it in the middle of the backseat to rest in the base. Turning back I see Ana trying to stand from the wheelchair. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Home."

"Yes, but not like that." I cradle one arm around her back and take her hand. I know she wants to protest, but she resists and allows me to help her into the backseat of the vehicle. Holding her abdomen she whimpers slightly as she adjusts in her seat. Once she is comfortable she takes Ted's hand in hers and he grasps her finger tightly. I buckle her seatbelt among her protesting glare and simply kiss her lips. "All set." Taylor is still standing on the curb when I close her door. "To the big house, Taylor, and drive carefully."

"Yes, Mr. Grey." He nods, unaffected by my last words. They were unnecessary, but I no longer have one piece of my heart in the back of my vehicle. Now there are two.

**"****I WANT TO PUT **these in his baby book." Using a pair of scissors Ana cuts off her own hospital bracelet followed by Ted's. The noon sun streams across the hazelnut brown walls of her study.

"Here," I turn the pages quickly from where I have been reading her hand written accounts of the last nine months and find the page where she will attach the bracelets. Her journal entries to our son about her pregnancy with him are beautiful. She isn't aware, but I have read them time and time again. The love she felt for him was instantaneous and when, years from now, he reads them he will see that.

Ana securely attaches the bracelets and using her black fountain pen writes down his birthdate, time, weight and length. She then writes today's date as the day he came home from the hospital. "There." She smiles at the page and closes the book. "Another page complete."

"And so many more to fill." I murmur to myself, already wondering at how time has flown. Will time always fly this quickly? I never knew it could pass at such a pace until Ana became pregnant. To her it sometimes seemed as though the days were never passing and that she would be pregnant forever. To me it rushed by like a summer breeze you want so badly to cherish, but can't because as soon as you feel it, it is gone.

"They will fill themselves in time." She nods and I hear her voice break. When she looks up at me her eyes are filled with tears.

"Baby," I cup her cheek and she turns her face to kiss my palm.

"I'm so happy Christian, really. These are happy tears." She laughs at herself and I bring my other hand to cradle her face. Using my thumbs I wipe away her tears. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so tired and I'm so happy and I'm so relieved. I'm a mixed up jumbled ball of emotions. Like a ball of yarn my emotions are wrapped every which way."

I search her eyes and see the exhaustion there. Her body has been through so much. I kiss her lips, warm and inviting. Her content sigh washes over me and I pull her nearer, careful not to hurt her. She is so delicate to me. I release her when I hear the soft mewling cry of Ted approaching the door.

"Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey," Mrs. Jones calls to us in a hushed tone.

"Gail," Ana dashes away her remaining tears.

"I'm sorry, I've changed Theodore and I believe he is ready to eat."

"I've got him Mrs. Jones." I take my fussing son from her arms. He lets out a sharp cry and I freeze. My heart stammers and I look up at Ana. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins at lightning speed.

"He's only hungry, Christian." She touches my arm in reassurance. I should be reassuring her, but here she is offering me solace.

Theodore Raymond Grey quickly works an arm free from the confines of his expertly swaddled blankets and I wonder where Mrs. Jones was able to have such practice at swaddling an infant. His hand covered in pale blue mitts waves in the air in jerky motions.

Ana shuffles the steps to our room, holding her belly as she goes. She was full of energy and will power when we left the hospital. I have seen it drain from her quickly as the hours have passed. In our room I place the hungry baby on the bed and turn to Ana. She is trying fruitlessly to climb atop our expansive bed. "Let me, Ana." I bend and curl one arm under her knees, supporting the other at her back, and lift her.

"Umph…" She settles back against the pillows.

"What do you need?"

"The nursing pillow, it is there, on my rocking chair near his bassinette." She points to the rocking chair I gave her for Valentine's Day. Hurriedly I fetch the pillow and help her to situate it around her middle. "Now, Ted." She pulls down the top of her strapless dress and unsnaps her bra.

Ted's crying ceases to minute he is in Ana's arms. Cooing softly to him she encourages him to find her nipple, just as the nurses instructed her to do. Patiently she offers herself to him until his rooting mouth finds her and latches on. An unnamed emotion laves at my heart, thawing what little taciturnity that was left. My Ana is feeding our son. Watching her nurse him in the hospital could never compare to what I am witnessing now.

"There, there, sweet baby boy." She whispers. "See, Daddy? He was just hungry, that's all."

"I see, Mommy."

"Come sit with us."

I slip my shoes off and join them on the bed. "Hold his hand, Daddy." She encourages me and so I do.

Ted grips my finger tightly. "That's his ulner grasp." Ana looks up. "I read it one of the books I bought you. It is a reflex. When you place something in a baby's palm they grasp it."

"You've done your homework, Mr. Grey."

"I may have done my homework, but you did all of the hard work."

"I wouldn't change a second of it."

"I know."

Ana leans her head and rests it on my shoulder. Together we watch our son nursing. His tiny grunts and whimpers reassure me that he is eating. He will never be hungry. He has Ana and I to take care of him. I will go to the ends of the earth for him and for his mother.

"Thank you, Ana."

"You've already thanked me, Christian."

Holding her close I tangle my fingers in her air. "And I will continue to thank you for the rest of my life."


	3. Chapter 3

The first part of this is still the day Teddy comes home from the hospital. You will know when time shifts to Father's Day. Thank you all for reading and enjoy...it took a while to write, sometimes getting inside Christian's head can be a challenge. ;)

**TIME PASSES AT A **slow pace, inching by, second by second; I want it to always be like this. Soaking in every noise and facial expression I watch my son as he eats. My son, the concept is still so alien to me. Will it ever not be? His eyes as blue as the lowest nadirs in the greatest of oceans, they are his mother's, his dark hair too. Every ounce of him is Ana. I stare at him, searching, trying to find a piece of me, but there isn't one. It's for the better. I want him to have all of the qualities of his mother. She is my talisman, the light in my dark, the light that pulled me from the darkness.

The sound of Ana's soft rhythmic breathing stirs my attention away from my thoughts. She has fallen asleep. Still holding our nursing son in her arms she is fast asleep. He is safe, lying across her lap on the pallid blue pillow. His grip on my finger lessens and he turns his head subtly letting out a whimper. Burp him, I need to burp him. The nurses, my mother, Carla, and Ana, they all burp him after he eats. Instantly I wish I hadn't shaken my hands, not wanting to try. Afraid of hurting him or doing something wrong I let them do it all.

Not wanting to wake Ana I take Ted from her arms. He cries out in complaint. "Shhhhh…don't wake her, please." I whisper to him, begging him not to scream. My eyes dart to Ana and her eyes are still closed. With Ted in my arms I look longingly at the white receiving blanket. It is lying on the bed near Ana. How do I pick up the blanket while holding him? I can't. I should put the blanket over my shoulder before burping him. Ana does that. "Shhhh…" I beg him not to cry. My hands are shaking. Mom's words come back to me; _babies can smell your fear._ Carla agreed adding, _they know when you are unsure of yourself and it puts them at ease._ Fuck, they were both right. Fuck. I can't say fuck. I didn't say it. I thought it. I shouldn't be thinking it. He can sense that I'm thinking it and I shouldn't cuss around him. Fuck. Christ, there I go again.

I look down at the baby boy and know I have to do something. His eyes are watching me, waiting for me to act and I don't have a clue what to do. Supporting his head I move him to my shoulder, supporting his head there and his body against my torso. "I'm going to attempt to burp you." I say quietly to him and then wonder why in the fuck I'm talking. He can't understand my words. Jesus, don't let him hear my thoughts.

Gently I begin to pat his back the same way I have seen Ana do it. The smallest burp sounds in my left ear. "You burped." I say in awe of my son and myself. I helped him. The beaming smile on my face makes me look like a complete fool. Who celebrates a burp? This is ludicrous. The first burp is followed by one more and when I move Ted back to be cradled in my arms he is content. I could put him in his bassinette, but I don't want to. I want to hold him. He is mine, my son. I shift him in my arms to free one hand and pull the covers up over Ana's body. I tuck them around the pillow instead of moving it. She is comfortable now and I know a slight change in her position could change that. I want her covered though. No one should see her. She sighs and leans her head to the side, resting it on my shoulder. I kiss her hair and then Ted's. Vigilantly I keep watch over them, never blinking my eyes while they sleep.

**_Christian's first Father's Day _**

**_June 2012_**

Long before the sun breaks over the Puget Sound our day begins. Or did the day before end? A deafening shrill cry fractures the few peaceful hours of sleep we have been granted. I open my eyes and Ana lifts her head from my chest in a snap movement. We are on top of the blankets, never having made it under them.

"He's awake." She states, startled by the scream in the bassinette behind her.

He's been awake off and on all night, more on than off. "I've got him." I stretch out from under her and she moves over to climb out of bed herself. In the muted light of dawn I see her touch her stomach as she rises.

"I'm okay," she catches my watchful glare.

The past three weeks have blurred together. Me watching Ana, caring for her, caring for Ted, Ana crying, Ted crying, holding Ana, holding Ted, I've never paused. It has been full steam ahead. When someone offers to help I snap at them. They are mine and I will take care of them. I loathe the notion that people find my capabilities inadequate. If Carla Adam's tells me I'm changing a diaper wrong one more time…I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with air and let exhale it out. I wish they would all go the hell home. At least they sleep at night and leave my wife and son to me then. I'm hanging on by a thread with these houseguests. In all of this there is Ana. She working so hard to learn everything she can to care for our son. With so many differing opinions from her mother, Kate, my father and my grandmother, I don't know how she hasn't snapped on them by now. Her patience is confounding while mine is faltering. What's worse is the workload Mom has had, if she could be here more often….

"He's three weeks old today," Ana stands by my side and touches our son's hand in comfort. Supporting his head in my hand I lift him and bring his tiny flailing body to my bare chest. "And it's Father's Day."

"Some father, I can't keep him from crying. He needs to be changed, again."

"He doesn't cry all of the time, Christian, only when he needs something." Her tone is gentle, but full of rebuke. "Do not put yourself down. No self-loathing. We are both lucky to have you." She takes him from my arms and I relinquish him to her. She is better with him than I am. I switch on the bedside lamp closest to Ted's bassinette.

Sure, I've had my moments. They are few and far between though. Everyone thinks so; I can tell by the way they watch me. Fuck, you're paranoid Grey. I'm exhausted that's what I am. How did I go from the twenty eight year old man who did not need a wink of sleep to the man who will be twenty nine fucking tomorrow and is an ill-tempered ass because he has not had a wink of sleep? I run my hand through my hair in exasperation, and I'm thinking curse words around my son again, great, just great. I'm glad Ana has faith in me because at this moment mine is swaying. When he came home from the hospital I was in control, not completely, but I was finding it. It amazes me how a person so small can throw off my world.

"Christian, will you hand me a diaper?" I reach into one of the baskets under the bassinette. Ana has Ted lain out on our bed, his changing mat under him. I place the diaper in her hand and watch how she readies the new diaper, cleaning him and slipping it onto him with quick efficiency. Every time I have changed him I have had to change my shirt. She moves so easily with him, so naturally. Was I even meant to be a father?

Dry once again Ted is comfortable and quiet. Ana places him back in his bed and offers him one of the green pacifiers from the hospital. He takes it and suckles while soothing himself back to sleep.

"So particular about everything," Ana remarks. "Fusses about the slightest imperfection, just like his father." She glances up at me and quirks an eyebrow. "His diaper was hardly wet. With a new one on he's as snug as a bug in a rug."

"A bug, really?"

"A bear then, a little sweet Teddy bear in his den."

"Much better." I feel a tired smile tug at the corners of my lips. These moments of levity we find in the haze of enervation we are both veiled in are what ensure me that we will be ourselves again, someday. Finding my way through my self-doubt is the only option I have. My son is depending on me, Ana is depending on me. Fucking Flynn, he is right and his words choose this moment to come back to me. I need to call him.

"His eyes are changing colors you know."

"What do you mean? They're blue." I scoff at her. I've seen my son's eyes enough these few weeks since he has been born. He has Ana's eyes.

"All babies have blue eyes, Christian. The dark blue is changing, fading to gray. He has your eyes." I look at her as if she's lost her mind. "When he wakes up, really look at his eyes. You will see yourself in him, Christian. I know you think he's all me, but he's not. The dark hair he was born with is falling away and there are streaks of red showing. He will have your hair and your eyes. He already has your personality, finicky to no end."

"Are you making fun of me, Mrs. Grey?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"I think you would and I think you do." I graze a finger over Ted's nose, his nose is Ana's. That will never change. "If he truly is like me, how will you handle having us both?"

"I've managed handling you quite well, Mr. Grey. Our little Teddy Grey will be a piece of cake."

**"****CHRISTIAN?" I LOOK UP **from my laptop and hear my mother's voice calling my name. Mrs. Jones shows her into my study where I am attempting to get some work done while both Ana and Ted are napping. Our early morning never stopped. Ted slept for another hour before wanting to be fed and he has been up and down since then. Shortly after ten, they both fell asleep. Fuck, is it really only eleven o'clock in the morning? Christ, sometimes the days seems so long, they are all running together. At least Kate has taken Carla shopping. If there's one thing she's good for its getting Ana's mother out of our hair. I click on the calendar quickly, three more days and she'll be gone.

"Mom," I leave my work and go to embrace her.

She pulls back and looks up at me. "You look so tired, son."

I rub my hands over my unshaven face. When was the last time I shaved? "Tired does not begin to describe how I feel." Disheveled in a white t shirt, jeans and no shoes, with more than a five o'clock shadow, I am not my normal outward put together self. Good thing I'm working from home, no one in public would recognize me.

"Happy Father's Day." She gives me a sympathetic smile. My father has no doubt given her a full indication of how cantankerous I have been.

"Thank you." I motion to the two chairs in front of my desk. "I was working. Ana and the baby are asleep." I have only been to the office once since Ted was born and that was only because I had no other choice. I refuse to leave them so working from home has been my only option.

"Mrs. Jones told me." She eyes me. "I'm sure she has been helpful to have around."

I know my mother and she's scouting for information. The truth is Mrs. Jones is helpful. She takes care of her usual chores and would do anything for Ana and Ted, but I want to do it. An innate feeling of responsibility is carved deep within me. They are mine.

"She is." I press my mouth into a thin line. I will not hear one more person tell me to let 'them do it' or to 'let someone help.'

Mom does nothing of the sort. She watches me, waiting for my thick exterior walls to crack and for me to talk. Christ she knows me too well. The only person who knows me more is Ana, and Flynn. The three of them can force me to talk without saying a word themselves.

"The truth is, I'm exhausted Mom. The only thing I'm certain of is how to care for Ana, but then she cries and I think I'm not doing that right either. The baby cries all of the time. Ana says he doesn't she tells me he only cries when he needs something, and that may be true, but to me it doesn't seem that way. I hear him crying even when he's not crying. I'm not as strong as she is. She was mean to be a mother, I was not mean to be a father. I can't handle…"

"Christian Trevelyan Grey," She says abruptly and it catches my attention. She has not called me by my full name since I was a child. Instantly I feel chastised and she's only said my name. If my father were sitting in her seat I would be up and walking out the door. For her though, I stay. "You were meant to be a father or you would not have been given the gift you have been given. Now, that's all I'm going to say about that. You are tired, all new parents are. That is where this is coming from. You need a respite. All new parents need one."

"I'm taking care of Ana and our son on my own."

Softening her voice and her demeanor she leans over and covers my hand with hers. "I know son, and you are doing a spectacular job."

"That's what Ana says."

"And she's correct, listen to her. She loves you. She's probably also told you to stop putting yourself down. Your son loves you too."

I smirk, "She's said something to that accord." I wonder sometimes if Grace Trevelyan Grey and Anastasia Grey have secret conversations about me. They both, in their own ways, pull me out of myself and make me see the light.

"Good, you need to hear that. As for Ana crying, give her time. She's been through a pregnancy and a complicated birth. She's still the same person, Christian." I recall walking in on a conversation between Ana and Carla. Ana was crying in her hands going on and on about how she is a constant emotional mess. Carla held her and reassured her that her hormonal ups and downs would subside with time. I felt guilt eavesdropping and disappeared from the doorway before either of them saw me. Mom pats my hand and sits up straighter. "I'm sorry I have not been around more."

"Mom, you had to work…"

She holds up a hand, cutting me off. "Not today I don't. Elliot and your father have gone golfing and your sister is off with Kate and Carla. I am here…"

"Mom, I've got everything under control." I interject without letting her finish.

She gives me a glare. "Do not interrupt me." I nod and smile. I may not tell her enough, hell I know I don't tell her enough, but I love her. She has never stopped saving me even when I didn't think I needed to be saved or didn't want to be. "Have Ana feed Ted and then bring him down to me. I've already spoken to Mrs. Jones. She is preparing a lovely lunch for the two of you and will serve it wherever you would like. I will take care of Ted for a few hours here in the house so that he is not out of your earshot." She watches me continue to smile. "Now, go. Tell Ana and bring me my adorable grandson."

**"****YOUR MOM REALLY DOESN'T **have to do this." Ana tries to protest again. I lift a freshly nursed Ted from her arms. "If he cries she'll bring him right to us?" Knowing she's as uncertain about letting our son out of her sight as I am is reassuring. Maybe my control issues aren't as uncommon as I thought in this aspect.

"She wants to, she will be right downstairs." After some coaxing I take Ted downstairs. Following the pair of female voices through the expansive great room I find my mom in the kitchen with Mrs. Jones.

"There's my beautiful grandson." Mom instantly coos to Ted and takes him from my arms. "I will find you and Ana if we need anything." She nods at the silver platter filled with food. It is resting on the counter while Mrs. Jones adds her finishing touches.

"I've made a warm root vegetable salad with grilled cheese sandwiches and a pear crisp."

"Thank you." She places two bottles of water on the tray and I lift it from the countertop.

"Take your time, Christian." Mom calls after me.

**THE BEDROOM IS EMPTY **when I walk back in. I hear the shower running through the open bathroom door and place the full tray on top of our bed. The room is shrouded in swirls of steam. I hear her quiet sobs and my heart wrenches once again. She's happy and content and then she's not. Christ, when will whatever has a hold of her relinquish its grasp. She's holding her head in her hands, her shoulders slumped over. I open the glass door, the hot humidity rushes out against me, soaking my shirt.

"Christian, I'm…" She looks up startled and dashes her tears away. I don't say anything. I reach over and turn the knobs, halting the rain shower from washing over her. She has already bathed. I see the few remaining soap bubbles swirling down the drain. I lift my shirt over my head and drop it to the floor. Her tired eyes sweep over my chest.

"I have lunch." I take a towel and open it in front of my body, inviting her to step into it.

She hesitates. "I'll dress and then come out. You can start without me."

Dammit. She's been so modest for these past three weeks. Acting as though I've never seen her body before, I cannot bear another moment of not touching her skin. Three more weeks Grey, I mental chastise myself for not giving her the time she needs. She cannot hide from me forever. She's my wife, my Ana. I love her. Shit, I need to give her time. I need to stop being an ass. I need her, just this, I need to touch her. "Please, Ana." I plead softly.

Placing her left foot out of the shower first, she follows it with her right and before I know it she's in my arms and I'm wrapping the towel around her. God this feels good. No clothes, just a towel between her skin and mine.

"Why were you crying?" I ask her, running my hands slowly up and down her arms, soaking up the droplets of water.

She buries her face in my chest, soaking my chest with her long wet locks. I inhale, she smells divine, Jasmine flowers, soap and my Ana. "I'm a terrible wife and mother." I start to speak, disagreeing adamantly with the false accusation she has just made of herself. "It is Father's Day and I didn't get you anything, from me or from Ted."

I want to chuckle to myself. This is why she's crying. It's so silly. There is no way she would have had the time to do anything with how much she has been caring for Ted and healing herself. What's more, I never expected anything from her. How can I make her see this without making her feel like I'm discounting her emotions? "Baby," I croon to her and rock her in my arms.

She sniffles and pulls her face back to look at me. "Forgive me? You always shower me with gifts and this time, I've really blown it. It's your first Father's Day and tomorrow is your birthday. I have nothing, Christian."

I take her face between my hands and lock her clear blue gaze with my eyes. "Last year you gave me you for my birthday. This year you gave me our son. I don't think you can ever top these two gifts, Ana, even if you tried, which you shouldn't because it isn't possible. There will never be two birthday gifts better than the one I received last year and the one I received this year. As for today, you made me a father." Tears stream down her face again and I kiss them away, moving my lips to hers. I swallow her sobs and take away any doubt she has in herself. "So beautiful," I whisper aloud. Dropping the towel from her now dry body I move to kneel before her.

"Christian," She places her hands on my shoulders and attempts to pull me back to my feet.

She's self-conscious about her postpartum body, I know it. Even if the words have never left her lips, I know it. In three weeks' time I intend to show her exactly how sexy she is to me. For now this will have to do. Chills break out over her skin when I trace the raised pink scar that graces her lower abdomen. "So beautiful," I whisper again and press my lips against her, kissing the scar, which helped to bring our son into the world. I stand and kiss her lips softly. "I'll let you dress." She nods and I leave the bathroom, feeling more attuned to my wife than I have in weeks.

A few minutes pass and Ana comes out of the bathroom. She's wearing one of the pink silk maternity gowns Caroline Acton chose for her during her first trimester. "I wanted to get out of sweats and t shirts." She says by way of explanation. I stand and help her to sit on the bed with me. "This smells wonderful."

I watch, satisfied, as Ana eats her entire lunch. She cleans each plate and drinks all of her bottle of water and most of mine. I don't mind. Seeing her like this is what I live for. She looks up from where she is running her finger over her salad plate. Collecting the last drop of salad dressing she licks her finger clean. "You're tired."

"I'm fine. I'm enjoying alone time with you." Ana pushes the now empty tray to the side of the bed and pulls the blankets over us both. "Don't you want to do something?" I'm shocked she's lying back down.

"I am, you sit up all of the time and watch Ted and I sleep. I know we are always safe because you are watching us, always anticipating our next need. Now, it's my turn." She opens the crook of her arm to me and I move down in the bed, understanding what she means. I rest a hand on one of her breasts. "Sleep, Mr. Grey. Let me have the pleasure of watching you."

She kisses the top of my head. "I love you."

Me telling her that I love her too are the last words I utter before falling fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

In light of the fact that I am not writing a short specific to Mother's Day this year, I wrote this. I wanted to give my readers a special gift for the special day. I hope this suffices. Thank you all for reading and happy Mother's Day to each and every one of you. If you've read my stories, you already know my sentiments on what makes a woman a mother. Please know that you are all beautiful and I send only wonderful wishes your way. If it has been a while since you read this story, I suggest going back and reading the prior chapter before reading this one, so as to refresh your memory.

**Ana's POV**

**THE PULL OF DEEP **slumber grabs at me and releases me. I am in a never ending battle between sleep and wakefulness. If I could just open my eyelids I would wake up, but I am so warm and comfortable. The weight of Christian's body is still beside me. I drag my arm up and over his stomach. His steady breaths tell me that he is still sleeping. He has never stopped caring for Ted and me, not for one second since Teddy was born has he stopped. Even when he is exhausted he is still going. It's as if he has been on autopilot for the past three weeks.

I am finally able to peel my eyes open. Feeling more alive I reach for the copper lock of hair that has fallen over his forehead. I tuck it back in place. He doesn't stir, so tired, my poor Fifty.

Careful not to wake him, I wriggle my way out of bed. I feel more like myself now, if that makes any sense. To me it does. The simple act of walking and moving about the house is so much easier than it was less than a month ago. What a difference three weeks makes. I reach for my robe from the back of the bathroom door and slip it on. Christian is still asleep in the exact same position as when I left him. I'm not going to wake him, he needs his rest.

Walking slowly, I take one step at a time until I am in the great room. The house is quiet. I go through the kitchen and into the family room, too quiet. Where are Ted and Grace? Movement outside the wall of glass doors catches my attention. Out of the corner of my eye I see Grace. She is outside on the patio. Swaying back and forth in an ancient dance of motherhood, she is soothing my baby boy.

The sound of the French door clicking open alerts her of my presence. "There is your Mommy, Teddy." She beams at me, holding Ted up to see me.

He is completely covered by his swaddling blanket; only his tiny face peeks out. "Hey there, baby boy." The warm summer wind whips off of the sound, blowing my hair in all directions.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought him outside, Ana."

"No," She offers Ted to my arms and I take him. His little face scrunches up in protest. He does not care for the act of being passed from one person to the next, particular little man already. "We have come out here to sit quite often. Mom says the sunlight is good for him." I take a seat in one of the cushioned chairs around the slate topped table. Grace joins me by sitting across the table from me. She hands me the white burp cloth she had been wearing over her shoulder.

"Your mom is right, babies need the sunshine." I am so lucky to be surrounded by my own mother, Grace, and even Mrs. Jones. All three of them have been so helpful to me. Looking back over the short span of Teddy's life, I don't know how I would have done any of this without their love and guidance.

The French door behind us opens and Gail comes out of the house. "Would you ladies care for anything to drink?" She is carrying a tray with two glasses and pitcher filled with a sparkling pink beverage.

"That would be wonderful, Gail." She pours Grace and me each a glass. Sparkling cranberry juice, it is crisp and delightful on my tongue. "Thank you." I nearly drain my entire glass and she refills it.

"Let me know if you need anything else. There are some scones there." She points to the covered dish I hadn't noticed until now. I thank her again and she goes back inside.

Teddy begins to fuss and grunt in my arms. I chuckle at his baby insistence. "He has a sixth sense that tells him when I'm eating and drinking I think."

"Children usually do," Grace grins at us both.

"Do you mind if I feed him?" I've fed Ted in front of my mother, but not Grace. I feel like I should ask her permission, although I know what her answer will be.

"Not at all, Ana. You take care of my grandson any way you need to."

Without much protest from Ted, I am able to adjust him and myself so that he is nursing contentedly in mere seconds. I reach for a scone and nibble a bite while he eats. "Has my mother come back from shopping with Kate yet?"

"No," Grace takes a scone for herself. "The house has been quiet; it's only been Teddy and I ambling about, with the occasional check in from Mrs. Jones."

Mom has been gone with Kate all day. I shudder to think of the multitude of shopping they are doing. My mother will probably return with an entire department store stock of baby clothes and toys. How one tiny being can need so many things is beyond me, but apparently he does, and even if he doesn't he has them.

"Thank you for caring for him today."

"It has been my pleasure. I know how tiring it can be when a small person depends on you every second of the day. You and Christian are doing so well with him." I see and hear the pride in Grace's voice. Her radiant expression has not faltered once since we announced my pregnancy to our families. It has only grown with Ted's birth, and I suspect as the years pass by it will continue to grow. Love does that.

"He's only one baby; I cannot imagine having three children." I say in reference to Grace having raised, Elliot, Christian, and Mia.

"You may be able to someday."

Yes, I think to myself, a brother or sister for Teddy to play with, but all in good time. Right now I want to focus on this tiny bundle of joy nursing at my breast. He is my entire world, all wrapped up in a powder blue blanket. "I do want siblings for Ted. I don't want him to be an only child like me." This is the first time I've made such an admission to Grace. My pregnancy with Ted was an unexpected event, to say the least. I haven't spoken with anyone, except Christian, about my desire to have more than one child. The decisions and conversations between Christian and me about our family feel very personal to me.

"He will be a wonderful big brother when the time is right. His father was a wonderful big brother, I'm sure it runs in the family." Grace is remembering Christian's love for baby Mia.

"What about Elliot? How did he feel about being a big brother?" I've never probed far into the Grey's family life. Especially after the earthquake that was Grace finding out about Elena, it felt like shaky ground. I don't think Grace has full recovered from that shock, I don't know if she ever will. Even if she doesn't say it, I can only imagine what that kind of knowledge would do to a mother. Holding my infant son in my arms makes knowing what Grace must have felt that much more real.

Grace smiles and looks far off behind my shoulder, remembering her two sons as young children. She keeps her eyes fixed on the shifting blue waters of the sound. "Elliot was a mess." She laughs, "A big jealous mess." Somehow this doesn't surprise me. "Christian took a good deal of my time, and that was time that was being taken away from Elliot. He loved being the center of attention, Elliot that is. When Christian arrived, Carrick and I shifted our family dynamic. He took Elliot on a more one on one basis, so that I could care for Christian." She pauses and I see a tinge of pain cross her face. I feel guilty for bring the subject up and almost stop her from continuing. "He was scared of Carrick; it took us years to learn why he was so leery of him."

His birthmother's pimp, I swallow back threatening tears and smile down at my baby boy. He turns his mouth away from my breast, he's finished eating. I cover myself and prop him up to burp him. Grace stops talking until I am patting Ted's back. "Go on…" I urge her; we are rarely afforded these private moments to talk.

"Christian was stuck to me like glue. As you know, he didn't talk for quite some time, not with his voice any way. I knew what he was saying though, with his eyes I knew what he needed. He clung to me and I did the best I could for him." Her voice drops to barely a whisper. "I thought I was doing enough…"

"Grace," I did not mean for things to take this kind of turn.

"No, I've put those regrets to rest, Ana. They just haunt me every now and then."

How could they not? "Don't let them, you are his mother, and he loves you. He always has."

"Children need love when they are the most unlovable, isn't that how the saying goes?" I nod, unsure of what the saying actually is. It makes sense though, so I agree with her. "He used to draw pictures for me. They covered the refrigerator. I couldn't keep his crayon box or coloring paper supplies full. Pictures of flowers, trees, and large grassy meadows, they brought our kitchen to life. The medley of variety was constantly changing. I still have them. Long after he outgrew drawing them for me I tucked them away in a box. I'll show them to you sometime."

"I would love that." Christian drew pictures for her mother. I stare down at my baby, a tiny burp sounds from him and I giggle. His head lolls to the side slightly, cupper in my hand. I cradle him back against my chest in my arms. I wonder what Ted's drawings for me will look like.

We sit quietly, with the wind and the birds singing their own individual songs around us. The tranquility is only interrupted by the opening of the door behind me. I feel him there, watching us. "There you three are," the slight sound of relief in his voice is evident. "I was looking for you."

"We were enjoying the warm sun, Daddy."

He crouches down beside my chair and lays a gentle hand on our now sleeping son. "Have you been keeping Mommy and Grandma busy?"

I catch Grace wiping a tear from her cheek. She clears her throat and stands up, her chair scratching against the stone as she moves. "He was a perfect angel."

"Are you leaving now?" Christian turns his attention to his mother.

"I've done what I came to do. It's time for the three of you to be together now."

"Thank you for everything, Grace."

She gives me a smile and blows a kiss to me. "It was my pleasure, Ana." I watch her retreating back and cannot help how honored I feel at this very moment. Grace has shared a part of her heart with me, and a part of her motherhood to Christian.

Oblivious to the weighty conversation that has just taken place between his mother and I, Christian is completely absorbed in watching our son. "He's so perfect, Ana. I watch him all the time, yet I can scarcely believe he's real. It's like a beautiful dream and I just keep thinking I'm bound to wake up from it, but it's not a dream. He is really here, my son, our son."

Christian dreaming a beautiful dream, my heart squeezes. "I knew he would be perfect, Daddy."

"He is part of you, Mommy. Of course, he is perfect." He stands and kisses my lips. "Do you want to go inside?"

"Not yet, let's stay here a while longer."

Christian pulls the chair his mother was sitting in closer to my chair. We sit together, watching the leaves blowing in the breeze and listening to the gentle, rustling lullaby they play. "I think he likes being outside." I tuck the blanket under Ted's chin and cannot resist kissing his sweet button nose.

"He will grow up here." Christian's voice is an aspiration of hope and joy.

I look out across the lush green field, the first early summer flowers are dotting it with color. White wild daisies, purple lavender, and pink peonies swim in the flowing emerald sea. _Pictures of flowers, trees, and large grassy meadows, they brought our kitchen to life. _Grace's words come back to me. This is our paradise. This is our heaven, where we will grow our family.


End file.
